Lost and Waiting to Be Found
by kaisalune
Summary: Steve and Peggy are two lost souls. Steve is lost in the more literal sense of the word, presumably dead and unable to be recovered. Peggy is lost without the man she loves. Is there hope for Captain America?
1. Peggy's Torment

**So I saw Captain America a few days ago and I just loved Steve and Peggy's relationship so I started typing this up on my phone. I'm no expert on Marvel or Captain America and this is based purely on the film version, so don't be too hard on me. **

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><p>Peggy sat at the desk, shoulders hunched, hands to her mouth. Tears dropped onto the microphone that she had been speaking into moments before, hearing Steve's comforting voice; now all she heard was the static white noise. She tried desperately to suppress the sobs that were fighting to escape and her shoulders shook as the silent cries wracked her frame. Finally a small sob came out, the sound of pure grief, and she tried to hold then in lest somebody hear her.<p>

She didn't know how long she sat there, at that desk. She didn't know what to do with herself now – her sole purpose in life over the last few months had been to help Steve, keeping Captain America alive. Now he was dead. Merely thinking it made her want to sleep and awake with this entire journey a dream.

She had loved him. She might have been somewhat nonchalant when they had first met but they had become more. She remembered the happiness she had felt when watching video footage of Steve leading his troops and the picture of her in his compass. She tried desperately to cling to that joy, the hope and promise that upon his return they could have something – love.

Love. It seemed like such a simple word. Four letters, one syllable, and undeniably what Peggy felt for Steve.

How could she not have told him? In those moments before the plane went down she could have said it. That she loved him. Instead they'd joked about dancing, lighthearted when the situation begged for so much more. They'd made a date that could never possibly happen. Three little words, Peggy. Three little words.

Maybe it would have been too heart wrenching to say what they had really felt. Maybe in talking of dancing, Steve had been trying to make it easier for her, to move on. Maybe.

That's all she had left. Useless maybe's. Maybe Steve would have returned and maybe they could have been together. Maybe they could have married and spent their lives together.

Maybe.

The fleeting kiss, the beautiful, peaceful moment amidst the chaos – that was the last time she'd seen him. She hoped that the kiss had been enough to tell him how she truly felt. She was a strong, stubborn woman and Steve knew she didn't easily let others into her life, didn't he? She remembered how her heart had seemed to stop, how time had appeared to slow as their lips had touched, and then how her heart had hammered as Steve had jumped onto the plane, always an inch from death, always the invincible patriotic hero.

Until now.

Well, he was still a patriotic hero – he had died to save lives. He just wasn't invincible like everybody thought. Her mind jumped to when he had leapt onto a grenade to save the other men, willing to give his own life to save theirs. He was a genuinely good person, with a compassionate heart. She had liked him even then, when he was a small, skinny nobody.

She knew when she had first felt something more for him, although she hadn't quite realised it at the time. Well – they were being fired at as they hung in the air in an aluminum death trap. It was somewhat difficult to make an assessment of feelings in that situation. As Steve had thrown himself out of the place, she had been terrified for his safety. Not until back at base when the colonel had accused her of having a crush did she realise.

Thinking all of this made the tears continue, an endless stream. There was a tragic beauty to her tears. As they welled in her eyes and dropped creating trails down her cheeks, she was still beautiful. Sitting there, crying for the man she loved and would never see again.

Captain America, Steve Rogers, was dead.

After quite some time Peggy stood. With a sad sense of finality, she clicked the switch to the radio communications and the white noise was shut off. Walking back to her room, she felt like she was on autopilot. She barely noticed other soldiers going past her. She wondered what her face must look like, usually perfectly made up and devoid of emotion which could welcome taunts from the men, accusing her of being some melodramatic woman. She paused at the window of an office and saw her face – her eye makeup had run and smeared and her face was anything but the poised and collected expression of indifference she so usually wore. She always presented herself as the tough, strong woman, the sort of woman men looked at from a distance, but she would never let them get close to her emotionally. And no wonder – look what had happened.

Once she had returned to her tiny room with the small single bed, she collapsed onto it fully clothed. Exhaustion plagued her. She felt her eyelids drooping shut and felt wrong for wanting to sleep, but fighting that day and crying a river over the man she had lost had tired her. She slept a fitful night's sleep and woke far too late. She dressed in new clothes, pinned her hair and reapplied her makeup. She was the poised and determined woman again.

She entered Colonel Chester Phillip's office where he sat at his desk signing papers. He looked up as she walked forward. "Agent Carter!" He sounded shocked.

"Sorry I'm so late sir," she said.

"Carter, I didn't expect you today…"

"Why not sir?" She'd hidden herself behind that mask again and she wondered if he could tell.

"Peggy…" She couldn't remember a time he'd ever called her by her first name. "Why don't you have the week off? I know you were close to Rogers-"

"It's fine, sir," she said, her voice noticeably strained.

"I heard you. Last night, in the communications room. You should take some time to… to get over this."

Peggy didn't dare tell him it would take her more than a week off to get over this – that would reveal too much. "Please sir. I think my time would be better spent working."

"But-"

"I mean you no disrespect but if I spend a weak dealing with my thoughts I might just go mad." She didn't meet the man's eyes. He was silent for a long while.

Finally he spoke. "Well alright. You can work on the recovery of that bloody cube. Stark's searching for it in the ocean around where Rogers made contact with us after taking control of Schmidt's plane."

"What about recovering Steve?"

"Yes, we have men on that but we're not optimistic in what we'll find. Sorry, Peggy."

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><p><strong>By the way, he made a date. And date's are meant to be kept. That's all I'm gonna say.<strong>


	2. One More Day

**Alrighty! Second update. I saw the movie for a second time yesterday. I always enjoy movies better the second time for some reason and this was no exception. Still kickass awesome :) Anyway, there were a whole bunch of innacuracies in my first chapter which I apologise for - hopefully this makes up for it.**

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><p>The rest of the week passed painfully uneventfully upon return to the base. All Peggy felt was despair as it came closer and closer to Saturday and Steve had still not been found. Hope was fleeting now – it was had been almost a week and Steve had been lost out in icy cold climate. And that was <em>after <em>the plane crash. There was a lost vibe in the air and everybody was quietly pessimistic about the whole recovery. Peggy knew they were mostly searching for a body now.

Peggy herself was now so hidden behind her protective mask that no form of emotion escaped. She was the stony, cold woman who apparently felt nothing for the lost Captain despite their apparent romance. Only those who knew her personality and demeanour understood, and there were very few who did. She had found great solace with Stark, who had recovered the cube and returned within a couple of days. Peggy was grateful for his friendship, because without him she would basically be a social deprived robot. She went through the daily motions, talking to others purely on a military basis, a blank-page face waiting for Steve to return to write some meaning back into her life. She hated herself, absolutely hated herself, and her new vulnerability. She was so incredibly pathetic. She had never been dependent on a man or let a man define her life. She was Peggy Carter! Anything a man could do, she could do better, and what's more she would do it with poise and class. And here she was falling apart over a lost love. Couldn't she just return to the independent woman she had been before meeting Steve?

Stark made a point to drop by and see Peggy at least once a day. Sometimes this company was welcomed and sometimes it was not. However, she tried not to be too resentful when Stark made his visits because she knew he was her sense of normality in this surreal world that was apparently her current life. And she liked talking to him once she started – she felt he understood her.

It was Thursday when Colonel Phillips approached carrying a thick file. She had been sorting the folders, a tedious task that she had always hated. The colonel had an apologetic expression as he handed the file over and as he departed she slowly opened it, a feeling that she knew whose folder this was heavy in her heart.

Yes, she was right. Rogers, Steven. A photograph was tucked on top and she slid it out, revealing a small, skinny Steve, looking clueless, his dog tags dangling around his neck. Tears sprung up in her eyes. Glancing around, she quickly slid the photo into her jacket before closing the folder and placing it in the correct place – with the MIA soldiers under R. She refused to put him in deceased just yet. Denial was a strong thing.

Later, the colonel was addressing the long table at which sat the soldiers and agents of higher rank, including Peggy. The photo of Steve was still tucked inside her jacket, and she felt slightly better knowing it was there.

"I'm calling off the recovery search for Rogers."

There was a deafening silence. Of course they all expected it – they couldn't continue using expensive military resources to find someone who was impossible to be found and was most certainly dead, lost in the middle of nowhere. But still, Peggy felt betrayed in some way, like the colonel should continue to search for this man until he was found.

"What?" she said.

She felt all eyes turn on her – all down the table were faces.

The colonel looked at her steadily for a moment before replying. It was as if he was assessing how she would like him to tackle the situation. He seemed to conclude that professional was the best way of approach.

"Yes Carter. It has become beyond ridiculous now. Our soldiers on the search are required elsewhere and the resources being used are expensive and could do us better if engaged in other activities. The war is not going to win itself."

She stood, suddenly overcome. "You can't just give up on him! Not after everything he's done for us. He's saved hundreds of men and done absolute miracles in taking down HYDRA. He killed Johann Schmidt for god's sake! And now when he's in need of our assistance you give up on him? We need him!"

The silence that followed her outburst hurt her ears. Her eyes were shining with threatening tears as she stared squarely into the colonel's. He was examining her with a look of sadness and pity. "Peggy," he said softly. "He's gone. I understand how close you were to him and how painful his loss is to you, but you need to accept now that Steve is gone. He's dead and he isn't coming back. I'm sorry Peggy."

A tear slid down her cheek at the end of his reprimand as she struggled to maintain her composure in front of her peers. She stood there for a moment before jerking a nod. "Yes sir. Excuse me," she added in a wavering, breathless voice. As she exited, the only sound was her heels clacking on the hard floor. As she reached the door, the colonel cleared his throat. "A moment's silence to honour Steven Rogers."

After a pause at the doorway, Peggy continued out, the silence shouting at her all the way down the corridor.

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><p>"Are you alright?"<p>

"Hm?" Peggy glanced up from her daze. She had been sitting on the metal tabletop while Stark worked on whatever he was working on – she had been very non-committal about listening to Stark's latest project, although she knew quite a bit of his time revolved around the cube.

"You seem to be in a whole other place today," he said, smiling at her. His specialty was acting lighthearted, and his method actually worked in brightening her mood, even if it was infinitesimally.

"I'm alright," she replied.

"Sure you are. It won't do you any good to keep everything bottled up, you know. Just vent, Peg. That's what I'm here for. Or if you want you can wait 'til tomorrow night where we can go get a drink and you can relax-"

"Tomorrow's no good for me," Peggy said. "I… I'm busy."

"Uh huh. Doing what? Pining? It's Saturday tomorrow, you can't just stay at home…"

"Agent Carter!" The colonel's loud, commanding voice 5traveled from the door across the weapons lab. He approached and Peggy slid off the table and stood to face him. "Yes sir?"

"One more day," he said.

There was a brief pause. "Excuse me, sir?"

"One more day. My gift to you, Carter. It's just going to give you false hope, but I have no yet called those working on the recovery of Rogers off. I figured we may as well carry out the week."

"What good will that do, though? One extra day?" said Stark, sounding extremely dubious of the colonel's intentions.

The colonel shrugged. "Don't know. Worth a shot. But this is it. After today, we're stopping the search."

He exited quickly. Peggy was somewhat shocked by the colonel's actions and how gentle he was being with her. However, she felt frustrated, like he was patronizing her when it was obvious he believed nothing was going to happen if the search was continued and it was merely for her sake.

"It must feel terrible," said Stark softly. "Losing him."

Peggy regained control of her face and smiled at Stark. "You can't lose what you never had."

As she left Stark to his work, she could only think one thing:

_I almost had him._

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><p>The day neared its end and Peggy was leaving. Those who had been on the recovery team to locate Steve were returning and that was that. The end.<p>

However, this was not her closure. She had one last ounce of hope in her heart. And that was for tomorrow, Saturday, eight o'clock, the Stork Club.

Don't be late.

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><p><strong>I'll try to update really soon because I'm excited to write the next chapter for obvious reasons. I ship PeggySteve so hard. Also, can I just say I love Peggy Carter. She's damn awesome and the fact that she wasn't some weepy damsel in distress was great. And that _she _was the one to save _Steve _a couple of times. ANYWAY, until the next update!**

**Oh, and review! I heart reviews. But thanks to everybody for the great feedback already. It means a lot to me. Especially when people write that they got teary or something - it amazes me that I can do that. Thanks everybody! :)**


	3. The Stork Club

**Thank you to everybody for your kind words! And let me apologise for my absence. I feel really bad about not updating because I promised I would soon after the last and then life happened. Everything has been so hectic. School work is being flung at me from all directions. Also I've been filling up my spare time with The Good Wife. **

**So, in short, I am sorry. But this is THE chapter. And writing it made me all happy :) I just finished it because I'm off from school sick so I thought I'd finish this chapter. But enough rambling from me! Enjoy!**

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><p>Late Saturday morning Peggy awoke to the sound of loud knocks reverberating off her front door. She slowly swung her legs over the mattress and got up, pulling her dressing gown tightly around her as she went. A glance through the peep hole showed her Stark standing on the doorstep, a brown paper bag in his arms.<p>

"Stark – could you give me a second?" she called through the door.

"Oh hey Peggy. What for?"

"I'm not dressed."

"So you're naked?" he joked. Or maybe he wasn't joking – Peggy didn't like to think about it. She knew he liked her.

"No, just in my dressing gown. Give me a moment to get ready," she said.

She could hear him sigh on the other side of the door. "Can't you just let me in? I don't care if you're not in formal attire Peggy. We're friends but I've never even seen you without you being immaculately presented."

She didn't bother to reply, just went off to her room. She hurriedly dressed, styled her hair so that it was pulled back off her face in a low bun and applied her signature red lipstick. As she was about to exit her room to let Stark in, she paused at her dressing table where she had tucked Steve's photo into the frame of the mirror. _Tonight, Steve._

The knocking began again and quickly turned to hammering. She hurried to slide the chain and unlock the door, pulling it open to an exasperated Stark. He stared at her. "Did it seriously only take you ten minutes to make yourself look like that? Or is that natural?"

She ignored him and stepped aside to allow him to walk in, closing the door and locking it behind him. It was second nature, these safety precautions. She didn't feel safe unless the chain was slid home.

"I brought brunch," he told her, placing the paper bag on her coffee table and settling himself down on the sofa. He glanced up at her expectantly and she sat in the separate armchair. "Muffins and bagels, you know," he added, opening the bag and pulling out the food. He was glancing around the apartment, a bemused expression on his face. "Bit dusty."

"I haven't had a chance to clean since we got back," she said. "Did you come here just to criticize my living conditions?"

She stood and went to her small kitchen, finding plates in a cabinet and bringing them back over to Stark. He was watching her still.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, all joking absent from his tone.

She focused on placing a muffin on her plate, unwilling to answer. "I'm alright."

"No you're not."

"Please, Howard," she said, locking eyes with him. "Can't we just eat? Tell me about the cube."

Stark could not resist rambling on about his work and this cube was no exception. Peggy nodded along, but they both knew she was not truly listening. Her mind was constantly thinking of that evening. She was thinking about what to wear, actually. She remembered the night she'd gone to see Steve briefly at the Stork Club and had worn her red dress. She was just like any woman, really. She had worn a gorgeous dress that made every eye in the room turn to her, surprised Steve, kept the conversation brief and left abruptly. The end result she hoped for was that Steve would be left wanting more. And every other man in the room for good measure.

At one point Stark stood. "Howard, where are you going?" she asked, shocked out of her reverie.

"Your mind is obviously elsewhere. I'll leave you to your thoughts. Don't worry about it," he added as she stood, an apologetic expression on her face.

After he left Peggy busied herself with cleaning up the remains of the brunch. She felt absolutely horrible. There was the hope, the aching hope that she would see him again. And then there was the horrific dread that she was wrong, that he really was gone. How would she feel, standing outside the Stork Club, alone? What would she do?

The thought occupied her mind for the rest of the day.

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><p>She had gotten ready much too early. She had sat in her empty apartment and waited until it was a suitable time to leave, because she didn't want to wait outside the Club any longer than she absolutely had to. It was now ten to eight and she was just approaching the front of the Club, her heels clacking on the pavement, drawing the eye of every man on the street. Usually it brought her some form of satisfaction, but tonight she was too anxious to even notice.<p>

She was wearing red. It seemed fitting to wear it. Red was her. Red was her lips, red was her nails. Red was what had visually assaulted Steve that time in the Stork Club. It had a plunging neckline and slim fit. She had spent extra care on her hair, styling it so it waved just right and pinning it off her face, and she'd spent an age doing her makeup. Her eyes looked particularly mesmerizing that night, large and framed by long, dark eyelashes.

She hoped it had not all been in vain.

She stopped outside. She glanced at her watch. It was nearing eight. She felt as if her heart would leap out of her chest.

Others glanced at her as they entered the Club. She constantly checked in both directions for the tall, muscled figure of Steve Rogers. He did not appear. Minutes dragged on. She put off looking at her watch for as long as possible. She couldn't handle it any longer and looked – it was eight thirty.

Tears were welling in her eyes now but she furiously blinked them away. Had they said to meet out front? Maybe he had been waiting inside this whole time. She was grasping at the smallest, tiniest possibility. With a quick check down the street, she turned and entered the Stork Club.

The chatter, laughing and music hit her. It seemed ridiculous that all these people could be so chipper when Captain America was…

Was what?

Alive?

She checked every square inch of the place. Twice. Even the men's bathroom, which caused some extremely shocked stares and several wolf whistles.

He wasn't there. _He wasn't there_.

He's dead.

She hurriedly headed back to the front doors. She needed to go home. She pushed open the doors and stopped abruptly, frozen, staring.

It was him. It _was_ him wasn't it? Yes – not even her imagination was that vivid. For a moment she struggled, not knowing what to do, completely and utterly shocked. She realised that deep down she honestly hadn't expected him to show up. But he had. He had. _He had_.

He was wearing the military uniform, looking extremely dashing. He was smiling at her the most dazzling smile she had ever witnessed. His eyes held the compassion and love for her she had witnessed before.

And the first words to come out of her mouth? "You're late."

Steve broke into a laugh that sounded like a sob. "Peggy," he breathed, walking forwards.

She filled the distance, the tears overflowing. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder before he gently put a finger under her chin, bringing her face towards his. He kissed her with such unadulterated tenderness that she could not think of loving anybody more. As they pulled apart from the kiss, Steve brought a hand up to brush a strand of her hair back that had been pulled out of its immaculate styling during the hug. It turned into a caress halfway. He was looking into her eyes, his hand on her cheek.

"Peggy," he said. "You should know something. Something I should have said before… all this."

"I love you," she sputtered, placing her hand over his on her cheek. She was desperate to get it out before something else interrupted, before she left it too late like last time.

He smiled and laughed, his eyes sparkling. "You always have to be one up on me."

"I-" she began to say, but he placed a finger on her ruby red lips.

He straightened up. "Now you listen here Agent Carter. I love you," he said, his voice softening as he said the words, those words that she had been longing to hear.

And she pulled him forward, their lips meeting again. Their love felt so pure.

Finally, after remaining embraced for a few moments, Steve straightened up once again. Peggy clung to his arm, unwilling to let go of him after all that had happened. "Steve," she said, a little breathlessly. "I don't understand how-?"

"I'll explain everything," he said. He held her hand and wrapped her arm around the crook of his elbow. "Now," he said, "didn't you promise me to teach me how to dance?"

Peggy pushed aside her need for explanation. It could wait. Everything could wait. Tonight she was going to dance with the man she loved. "Alright. Let's dance."

"You'll have to teach me," he said. "I wouldn't want to step on your feet."

She laughed and used her spare hand to wipe away the tears from beneath her eyes. Then she looked up at Steve. "But you really were late."

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><p><strong>HAZAAH! Steve's back, Peggy's displaying emotion, all is well in the world! I thought this would be a good place to leave off for the meantime because I have to get my ideas together about how he survived and all. Plus it just seemed a sweet place to end :) Anyway, once again, feedback greatly appreciated!<strong>


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